Pierre and Jean

e minutes on to a neighbour's shoulder which repelled them with a shove. Then they sat up, ceased to sno

reat difficulty in shaking it off, and Beausire even refused to go to Jean's

full of rather puerile glee which had suddenly come over him, at being able,

she herself would boil the water and make the tea, for sh

elf, Jean, and the workmen, that the surprise

lamps and candles, and he left Mme. Rosemilly in the dark with his father and

pasm of surprise. Roland, dazzled by such luxury, muttered an oath, and felt inclined to clap his hands as if it were a pantomime scene. They then went into the first drawing-roo

his writing-table loaded with books, and

onsent I promised you, it affords me absolute certainty that the mat

ook her hand and pressed it. Jean, in high spirits, cut a caper like a school-boy, exclai

e dec

the acquittal we expect of you, I should appeal to your compassion, gentlemen of the jury, to your hearts as fathe

been his, and he was restive under his brother's

pened a door

e bed-room,

itating old Normandy chintz, and the Louis XV. design-a shepherdess, in a medallion held in the beaks of a p

ly exclaimed, becoming a little

ike it?"

ense

imagine ho

second, with confiding tendern

hat the bed was a large one, quite a family bed, chosen by Mme. Roland, who had no doubt foreseen and hoped that her son

s mandarins, jars, silk hangings glistening with gold, transparent blinds threaded with beads looking like drops of water, fans nailed to the wall to drape the hangings on, screens, swords, masks, cranes made of real feathers, and a myriad trifles in china, wood, paper, ivory, mother-of-pearl, and bronze

them. Then, at the end of about an hour, Mme. Rosemilly begged to take leave. It was decided that old Roland should accompany her home and set o

back for you?"

said: "No, dear old man; go to

in a cupboard of which she gave the key to Jean; then she went into the bed-room, turned down the

the criticism passed on his taste, and the elder chafing more and more at seeing his broth

looked very jaded this evening. L

boil up in easy-going natures when they are wounded to the quick. He could ha

o say 'the widow' when you

ned on him

der, I believe. Are you

pulled hi

ut I have had enough

ou? And are you any p

Mme. Rosemilly is ab

aughed t

o longer speak of her as 'the widow.' But you have

ng about it. Do you

oice quivering with exasperation at this irony

tent rage, of suppressed malignity, of rebellion choked down for so long pa

I order you to hold your tong

rage to hit on the thing, the phrase, the word, which might stab his brother to the heart. He went on, with a

of me, ever since the day when you first began to

e strident and scornful laugh

f you! I? I? And of what? Good G

l that he had touched

. And it became fury when you saw that this woman

quick by this assum

for the sake of that goose,

at he was aimin

ou are bursting with jealousy! And when this money was left to me you were maddened, you hated me, you showed it in every

an almost irresistible impulse to fly at

cried. "At least say no

wen

. You pretend to despise me because you are jealous. You try to pick a quarrel with every one because you are jealous. And now t

, his mouth half open, his eyes glaring, a prey to one o

ping for breath: "Hold your tongue

ch the worse for you. I love the woman; you know it, and laugh her to scorn in my presence-so much the

respec

s-m

have brought shame on

Say it ag

cept one man's fortune when anot

derstanding, dazed by th

eat that o

you are the son of the man who left you his fortune. Well, then-a dec

you are saying. You? Is it you who g

leep and my days in lurking out of sight like an animal? I hardly know what I am doing or what will b

s in the next room. Remember

ts, his struggles, his assurance, and the history of the portrait-which had again disappeared

had festered like an abscess and the abscess had burst, splashing every one. He was pacing the room in the way he almost always did, his eyes fixed on vacancy, gesticulating in a frenzy of despair, his voice choked with tea

brother's blind vehemence, was leaning against the door

e through his room. She had not com

erre stampe

he cried, "to ha

are-headed, do

mb torpor of idiocy. He was conscious, indeed, that he must presently think and act, but he would wait, refusing to understand, to know, to remember, out of fear, weakness, cowardice. He

n stillness of walls and furniture, with the bright light of six wax candles and t

ain, roused his heart

through his legal studies with credit because his existence was tranquil. Everything in the world seemed to him quite natural and never aroused his particular attention. He loved order,

mother if he had not himself been distraught by despair? Besides, stamped on Jean's ear, on his sight, on his nerves, on the inmost fibres of his flesh, were certain

tress became unbearable; and he knew that behind the doo

t panel. Could she have run away? But how? If she had run away-she must have jumped out of the window into the street. A shock of

hted by a single candle stan

th anxious eyes, and he then noticed that the bed-curtains were drawn. He ran forward and opened them. His mother w

ders, he turned her over without her leaving go of the pillow, which covered

nd eyes and ears, that he might neither see her nor speak to her, gave him an idea, by the turmoil it roused in him, of the pitch suffering may rise to, and his heart, his simple heart, was torn with pity. He was no judge, not he; not even a merciful judge; he was a

, my poor mothe

t imperceptible shudder ran through all her limbs,

o me. It is not true. I k

egan to sob into the pillow. Her sinews relaxed, her rigid muscles yielded

tealing. He threw his arms round her neck and kissed her eyes, slowly, with

ow it is not true. Do not cry

ce, and with an effort of courage such as it mus

hild; it

inutes she seemed again to be suffocating, craning her throat and throwing

about it? It is true. You would

Overcome by alarm, he fell on hi

She stood up with terribl

y, my child. Good-bye." An

arms about he

ing, mother; whe

now-There is nothing left for

lding her firmly, he could find

d through all her efforts to

your mother now, p

gain; lifting her up in his arms he carried her to an arm-chair, forced h

love you and I will keep you! I will keep

ed in a de

-night, but to-morrow you would turn me out of

fection that, with a cry, she seized his head by the hair with both hands,

d in his ear: "No, my little Jean, you would not forgive me to-morrow. You think so, but you deceive yourself

d, clasping he

do not

I shall set about it, nor what I shall do; but it must be don

s turn spoke

I insist, because I want you. And you must

my ch

ou must; do you

rment is; I have known it this month past. Your feelings are touched now, but when that is over, when you l

leave me, mother. I

ithout both of us blushing, without my feeling that I m

s not so,

st day. Now, when I hear his step in the house my heart beats as if it would burst, when I hear his voice I am ready

so much that you would

at were p

is pos

k of it, with your brother and you on each han

wear I

ink of it at ever

listen, if you go away I w

her; she clasped Jean in a passion

e. Come, be reasonable. Try to stay for only one week.

an's shoulders, and holding

I have heard for this month past from your brother, if I were once to see in your eyes what I read in his, if I could fancy from

I swear

t when I perceived that your brother, my other son, suspected me, that as the minutes went by, h

at the contagion of her misery

ss her, but sh

make you understand. But you never can understa

n, mothe

his real wife; that, at the bottom of my heart, I cannot be ashamed of it; that I have no regrets; that I love him still even in death; that I shall always love him and never loved any other man; that he was my life, my joy, my hope, my comfort, everything-everything in the world to me for so long! Listen, my boy, before God, who hears me, I should never have had a joy in my existence if I had not met him; never anything-not a touch of tenderness or kindness, not one of those hours which make us regret growing old-nothing. I owe everything to him! I had but him in the world, and you two boys, your brother and you. But for you, all would have been empty, dark, and void as the night. I should never have loved, or known, or cared for anything-I should not even have wept-for I have wept, my little Jean; oh, yes, and bitter tears, since we came to Havre. I was his wholly and forever; for ten years I was as much his wife as he was my husband before God who

eplied

, mot

er tears flowed again; then, with

e. What can we d

ans

lan! You cannot live

r elder son she was

rowing herself on Jean's breas

e. Save me; do something-I don't kno

I will think

minute. Do not leave me. I am

it on some plan. I

k! You cannot imagine wha

ftly in his ear: "Ke

e the dangers of such an arrangement. But he had to argue for

to-night. And to-morrow morning you can s

age. I will arrange everything, I promise you, to-morrow; I will be wi

," she said with a childlike im

shock had been too much f

vinegar. She let him do what he would, exhausted, but comforted, as after the pains of child-bi

wn door Jean ki

other, keep up

and slipped into bed with a reawakened sense of that long-forgotten sin. Roland